I Never Knew
by fluffykitty12
Summary: When Frank says something so thoughtless and rude to Joe, it takes awhile for them to pick up the pieces. Featuring hurt/comfort, brotherly love moments, greiving, and an injured Joe.
1. Friction

**Okay, so I know this is posted under my user name, but my mom, Sherpherd, as her pen name is, isn't very good at computers, so I'm posting for her. Plz be nice, as she's just getting back into the loop. Haters, if you hate on my mommy I'll flame all your stories. Criticism is welcome, but no trolls or incredibly rude peeps. Enjoy!**

_Frank_

My cell phone rings. I spill hot coffee down my shirt when I grab my phone.

"Hardy," I growl.

"Car's dead," Joe says. "Need a ride."

I take a deep breath and count to ten.

"Ten minutes," I growl and hang up.

I change my shirt, grab my keys and get in my black BMW. Jetlag isn't pretty. Joe and I got in at 1 am after a nonstop flight from Europe.

Dad wants us at the office in twenty minutes, which is definitely not happening.

I pull into traffic lost in thought. Joe and I haven't been getting along. Have we outgrown our partnership?

Joe's been off this past year. Forgetful. Distant. Unorganized. If he wasn't my brother, I'd have found a new partner. I've read Joe the riot act a couple of times. I pull into Joe's apartment complex. I hate being late.

Joe leans against his 1968 black Mustang. My brother has spent the last year restoring this car. If the Mustang and I were trapped in a burning building, I'd pretty sure Joe would rescue the car first.

Joe wears jeans, sun glasses and a plain white t-shirt. Office wear for Joe.

"We're late," I say. "Dad wants us at a meeting in 10 minutes and we're 25 minutes away from the office."

"Sorry," Joe mumbles as he climbs in the passenger seat. "Forgot."

"You forgot a lot of stuff lately," I say. "Like packing for our trip."

On our trip to Europe Joe borrowed everything I packed – pants, shirts, socks – you name it – he borrowed it.

Instead of Joe's usual witty comeback, heavy silence fills my car. I drive down the main road.

"You had three hours to pack before we left for Europe," I say.

"Saw a friend," Joe says and looks out the window.

"A female friend?"

Joe ignores me. I turn on National Public Radio to get back at Joe. He hates it. Five long minutes pass with no complaints. When I look over, Joe is asleep. His head is slumped against the passenger window. Incredible. He really can sleep anywhere.

Thirty minutes later I pull into the office. A car drives away as I open my door. We missed the meeting.

I hate doing sloppy work. And lately working with Joe is sloppy.

"Wake up, we're here," I say and slam the car door. "Late, but here."

"Frank, are you ok?" Edward asks. "You never miss a meeting."

I pretend I don't hear Edward.

Edward is my age. Last year Dad went to a detective seminar. Some people come home with t-shirts. Dad came home with Edward. And for no logical reason, I hate the guy.

I pour myself a cup of strong, black coffee.

"I've got to take some papers to police headquarters for your dad," Edward says.

When Edward leaves, Joe comes in the office. Joe does that a lot. Like somehow ignoring Edward will make him go away. I wish.

"You missed the client meeting," Sam says. "Joe, your dad wants the Hampton file."

"I put it on his desk before we left for Europe," Joe says. "He couldn't find it anywhere," Sam says. "Been driving me crazy about it ever since you guys left two weeks ago. Frank, your dad wants to see you."

"Give me a minute," I say and turn on my computer.

I push my chair back just as Joe walks in with a glass of Mountain Dew – his go to source of caffeine. Joe trips over my chair. His soda lands on my computer keyboard. My computer fizzes and the screen goes dead.

"Frank, I- I'm sorry," Joe stammers. "I'll buy you whatever you want from the computer store."

"I want a new partner," I say, louder than intended.

Joe's face goes white.

"Joe, could you run these papers down to the post office?" Dad asks. "Take Frank's car. He's parked behind me."

"I'll go," I say.

"No, Joe needs a break," Dad says. He hands Joe my car keys. "Frank, I'll see you in my office."

Dad puts his arm around Joe's shoulders and walks him to the door.

Joe leaves without saying goodbye.

I sit in one of Dad's leather office chairs. Why do I feel like a criminal about to be cross examined?

"Trip go OK?" Dad asks and closes the door. He sits behind his desk.

"Yes. We shut down the gun smuggling ring," I say. "I filled out paperwork for Scotland Yard. I filed our office report electronically last night before our plane landed. I'm ready for another case."

"No, you're not," Dad says. "Frank, you're angry with the wrong blond."

"What?"

"Last year Joe and I disagreed," Dad says. "I didn't want you distracted by Callie's engagement to some doctor in New York City. Joe didn't want you blindsided if someone mentioned it. He won."

I swallow hard and stare at the floor. When Joe told me Callie was engaged, I got drunk. Really drunk. Joe drove me home. He also held my head while I puked my guts out the next morning. Somehow Joe kept the whole episode from Dad.

Callie will be honeymooning in the Bahamas with someone else in two short months.

The news shouldn't shock me. Callie and I broke up last year. She moved to New York City and became a TV news reporter.

But how did Callie replace me so quickly? Did I mean anything to her? Is she the one?

"Dad," I say. "I keep my work separate from my personal life."

"So you want a new partner?"

"No, I…." I stop and feel my cheeks turn red.

"Frank, I know you're hurting," Dad says. "We've tried to give you space this past year."

I stare at him.

"That's why Joe restored the Mustang," Dad says. "He needed something to keep busy when you weren't working a case."

I'm too stunned to talk.

"If you're mad at Callie, call her or write her a note," Dad says. "I won't let you use Joe for a punching bag."

Dad's right. I've taken out my anger on the one person I never wanted to hurt…Joe.

"Speaking of how we're treating Joe, what's the story on Edward?" I ask.

"He wants to learn the business," Dad says.

"Did you notice Joe makes himself scarce when Edward's around?" I ask.

"No," Dad says.

"Treating Edward like the son you always wanted isn't helping your relationship with Joe," I say.

"I didn't realize," Dad says.

"Think Joe tolerates Edward like you tolerate Biker," I say.

"Joe's motorcycle friend who's had a few brushes with the law?" Dad asks.

"Yes," I say. "You put up with Biker, but can't wait until Joe outgrows him."

"I messed up," Dad says with a heavy sigh. "Always bad, but inexcusable now."

"Now?" I ask.

"What's the date?" Dad asks.

"May 20," I say.

I close my eyes as nausea hits. Iola died ten years ago today.


	2. The Plot Thickens

**Sorry for the wait, I had regents exams last week and i'm catching up on sleep. I will never abandon this stor, so bhar, please dont worry.**

_Frank_

Iola died today – ten years ago. I forgot. Inexcusable.

No wonder Joe's distant.

"Got to find Joe," I mumble, unable to look Dad in the eye.

"He'll be back in 10 minutes," Dad says.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" I ask.

_Neither of us says the obvious – no one should have to remind when Iola died._

"Couldn't get Joe away from your back," Dad says. "He knows you're hurting over Callie."

Dad's cell phone rings.

"You're sure?" Dad asks, as he goes pale. "Your informant says someone attached a bomb to Frank's car? Set to explode in 30 minutes?"

I dial Joe's number. His cell phone rings at his desk. I will kill him if the car bomb doesn't.

"SAM!" Dad yells and briefs his partner as we head out. We bump into Edward.

"I called the post office," Sam says. "They'll keep an eye out for him."

"Con, you've got to put an APB out on Joe and my car," I say into my cell phone. "It's a black BMW license plate DVG 187."

"Come on," Dad says. "We'll drive the south side of town."

Does Dad know I feel too shaky to drive?

"I'll take north," Sam says.

"I'll cover the west side," Edward says.

"We've got to find him," I say, as Dad starts his car.  
"Con, can you drive east?" Dad says into his Bluetooth.

I zone out as I buckle my seat belt. I told Joe I wanted a new partner. Those can't be my last words to him.

"Who set up my car?" I ask, as Dad pulls into traffic.

"The head of the European gun smuggling ring – Igor Lurd. He put out a contract on you. Apparently you upset him more than Joe."

"Scotland Yard couldn't get any evidence until I hacked Lurd's encrypted computer," I say and run a hand through my hair. "Why didn't I notice someone tampering with my car?"

"Because you're jetlagged, hurting and Lurd hired a professional," Dad says. "Take your pick."

"Fenton, no sign of Joe," Sam says over the radio.

"Con? Edward?" Dad says into his Bluetooth. "Any luck?"

"Negative," Con says.

"No sir," Edward says.

I check my watch. In fifteen minutes I will be an only child.

What if I don't get to tell Joe I'm sorry? Joe never got to apologize to Iola. How does he live with that? I may find out in twelve minutes.

Where is he?

"Dad! Joe's at the cemetery!" I say. "He's with Iola!"

Tires squeal and horns blare as Dad does an illegal u-turn in the middle of Main Street. We speed to the cemetery. I try to dial Con on my cell phone, but my hands tremble too much to hit his button on speed dial.

"Con, I need the bomb squad at the cemetery!" Dad says into his bluetooth.

"On our way," Con says.

I close my eyes and concentrate on breathing.

_"__I want a new partner."_

_Did I really say that to Joe? How do I fix this?_

The hurt look in Joe's eyes haunts me.

Pain. Pain so deep, it hurts to breathe.


	3. 137

Frank

Police sirens wail as Dad makes a sharp turn into the cemetery. I see my black BMW parked by Iola's grave. Joe stands a few feet away at Iola's grave. I look at my watch. Twenty seconds before the bomb explodes.

"Joe!" I shout though Dad's car window. "Run!"

I'm on my feet running to Joe. Halfway there my car explodes into a ball of burning metal and flames.

I run to the flames. Joe is gone.

Hands pull me back inches from the flames. I struggle to breathe through the heat and smoke.

"Frank, it's too late!" Dad shouts.

"No!" I scream. "Joe! Hang on!"

I aim a wild punch. It connects with Dad's nose. Sam loses his grip on me. I'm almost to the burning car when Edward and Con tackle me.

They drag me behind Dad's car.

A second explosion rocks my car. Nothing's left. A shell of burning metal and fire taunts me. No way Joe survived.

"I want this scene secured!" Con shouts.

My adrenaline rush is over. I collapse to the ground. Empty. Alone. Guilt-ridden.

Joe, I didn't want another partner. You knew that, right? When Iola died did you feel this way? How did you carry the pain and guilt? Did you ever get over it? No. Or you wouldn't have been here today.

I don't believe in aliens, Big Foot or God. Logic is my god. Until now.  
I sit in a heap on the ground. Fire trucks pull in to put out the car fire. Dad's puts his hand on my shoulder. Blood flows out of Dad's nose. How did that happen?

Dad's lips move, but I have no idea what he's saying.

Time has stopped. I'm lost.

I pray for the first time in my life.

God, don't take Joe. Please.

"Hey, over here!" Sam shouts. "I need a medic!"

Sam stands in the woods next to the cemetery.

I run over. Joe is sprawled on the ground. Blood stains his hair. An inch thick branch sticks out of his chest.

"Easy," I say and touch Joe's forehead.

Joe's blue eyes focus on me through the pain. A medic straps an oxygen mask over Joe's face.

Joe's eyes close.

I put my hand on Joe's chest and feel him breathe. Joe takes 137 breaths before they load the stretcher into the ambulance.


	4. In the Dark

4

_Frank_

"No passengers," the medic says.

He loads Joe's stretcher into the ambulance.

Someone growls. Was that me?

"Frank," Dad says and puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Larry, remember when I didn't write you up for speeding?" Con asks. "Could I call in my favor now?"

"OK," the medic mumbles and grudgingly makes room for me.

I put my shaking hand on Joe's knee. _Touching Joe is the only way I believe he is alive. _

When they wheel Joe into the ER, I collapse into an uncomfortable plastic chair.

"Frank?" Dad asks and puts a hand on my shoulder.

_I can't look at Dad. Too ashamed. I should be the one fighting for my life. Not Joe. If I hadn't said I wanted a new partner none of this would have happened. _

_Nobody hurts Joe. Except me. I spent the last year hurting him and shutting him out. Now Joe is fighting for his life because of me. _

"He's going to be OK," Dad says, but I hear the doubt in his voice.

I look at my hand covered in Joe's dried blood.

"We need to get you cleaned up," Dad says.

"Later," I say.

"Now," Dad says. "Joe's going to want to see you when he comes out."

_God, can You give me one more chance? _

"What if he doesn't make it?" I whisper.

Dad swallows hard.

"Joe's tough," Sam says, as he guides me into a wheelchair. _He's right. Except I hurt Joe. Really hurt him. Told him I wanted a new partner. I drew a line between us. What if Joe won't fight anymore? _

"I'm going to clean these scratches on your arms," a nurse says.

"Any news?" I ask.

"Not yet, Frank," Dad says and rests his hand on my shoulder.

"Anything else hurt?" the nurse asks.

"How's Joe?" I ask.

"Frank, give Joe's doctors some time," Dad says.

"I'm Dr. Weston," a man in green scrubs says. "Let's take a look at that cut by your eye."

I flinch when he touches it.

"Need something for the pain?" he asks.

_His voice sounds miles away. _

"Nurse, I need some blankets," Dr. Weston says. "He's going into shock."

_I feel a sting by my eye. _

"Frank, look at me," Dad says.

"Nurse, I want his heart rate and pulse monitored," the doctor says.

_Why am I here? Something scary roars at the edge of my mind, but I won't let it in. _

Sam walks in with another doctor.

"Joseph Hardy's family?" the new doctor asks. "I'm Dr. Welby."

_Joe. My car. The explosion. _

_Why can't I stop shaking? _

"Joseph just came out of surgery," Dr. Welby says.

"He's ok?" I ask.

"We'll know in 72 hours," Dr. Welby says.

"How is he?" Dad asks.

"Concussion, an abdominal fragmentation injury…."

"What?" I ask.

"The blast caused a branch to get stuck in Joseph's chest. We removed it and repaired his lung. I'm most concerned about the swelling of his optic nerves."

"What does that mean?" Dad asks.

"He can't see. We'll know in a few days if his vision will return."

_Joe's blind. Because of me. _

_Joe will hate me. I hate me. _

_If Joe dies…or ends up blind…I'll never forgive myself. Like Joe never forgave himself when Iola died. _

When Joe is moved out of recovery into ICU I'm his first visitor.

The sounds of the heart monitor and ventilator fill the space. Wires and tubes are connected to my brother. He's pale. Someone wrapped bandages around Joe's eyes. Another large bandage covers his chest.

_What if this is my last chance to fix things? _

I run my hand through my hair and sit by Joe.

"Joe…" I whisper and swallow hard.

"I-I…messed up. Don't want another partner…I never did…just hurt…after Callie…I kind of shut down."

"Callie's engagement… surprised me. Didn't realize you had it out with Dad to tell me about it. You've always had my back. Even when I don't deserve it."

"Give me another chance, Joe. Please. I can't do this alone. It can't end like this. So fight, ok? For me."

"Time's up," the nurse says.

In the hall, Dad, Sam, Edward and Con are talking.

"I don't want to bother Laura and Gert on their world cruise until we know more," Dad says.

Mom will hate that, but I'm too tired to fight Dad.

"Understood," Sam says. "I'll arrange for some hospital security from Con."

"Thanks," Dad says and puts his arm around my shoulder. "Let's grab something to eat."

_Still can't stop shaking. The elevator ride to the cafeteria is a blur. _

_God, I need a favor. Joe can't be blind. _

_Not sure I believe in You. Maybe You don't believe in me. _

_Take anything You want. Just give Joe back his sight. _

The next four days are a blur. Joe's unconscious. He is fed intravenously. He can't talk to me. Or look at me. This is the way I treated him the past year. I shut him out.

It's like he's dead. Or at least dead to me. Maybe that's why I refuse to leave the hospital hall outside Joe's room.

In ICU Joe can have visitors for 15 minutes every hour. So for 15 minutes every hour, I talk. Words pour out of my mouth that I've kept stuffed inside for months.

"I hate Callie. You can't put love on a deadline. I wasn't ready. She kept pushing me to buy her a ring."

"Sometimes I feel trapped in Bayport working for Dad. Don't want to disappoint Dad, but I want more."

"I wish we could do the last year over again. I'll make everything up to you, Joe. I promise."

_What if Joe wakes up alone, blind and helpless? He hates the dark. He hates being helpless._

_I made Joe's worst nightmare come true. _

Dr. Welby assures me Joe's medicine will keep him unconscious so his body can heal.

_But I can't shake my fear Joe will wake up terrified. And I will have let him down again. _

Sam and Edward work the case. Dad and I camp out at the hospital. Today the doctor is cutting Joe's medicine back. Hopefully Joe will regain consciousness today.

_I'm scared. What if Joe hates me? I hate me._

A nurse injects a needle of liquid into Joe's IV.

"Relax, Frank," Dad says. "Joe may not even remember that day."

_That's when I know it's bad. When you pray for amnesia you know you've messed up._

Joe starts to stir.

"Joe, I'm right here," I say and put my hand on Joe's shoulder. "You're OK. You're in Bayport General. Can you hear me?"

Joe gives a small nod.

I squeeze his hand.

"Glad you're back," I say. "You're been out a few days."

"No," I say and catch Joe's hand as he tries to pull out the ventilator. "It's helping you breathe."

Joe squeezes my hand.

"Your eyes got hurt when my car blew up," I say. "They're bandaged. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere, ok?"

Joe's body relaxes. _I'm amazed at his faith in me. Maybe he doesn't remember what I said about wanting a new partner. _

"You rest. We're going to remove the ventilator in a bit," I say and rub Joe's shoulder.

A few hours later Joe has been weaned from the ventilator. "Frank?" Joe whispers hoarsely.

"Right here," I say and squeeze his shoulder.

I hold a straw while Joe takes a drink of water.

"You 'kay?" Joe whispers.

_No. I may never be OK again. Especially if you're blind. _

"Yes," I whisper.

Slowly Joe moves his hand with the IV in it up to his neck.

"Chain?" Joe whispers.

"Easy," I say and slowly guide his arm back to his side.

"Iola," Joe mumbles.

"Iola gave you a chain?"

"With gold cross," Joe whispers. "Need it."

"I'll take care of it," I say.

"Thanks," Joe mumbles before he falls asleep.

Sam and Con walk into the hospital room.

"How's he doing?" Con asks.

"Sleeping," I say. "Was Joe wearing a chain around his neck when you found him?"

"Didn't see one," Sam says.

"Iola gave it to him," I say.

"We'll find it," Sam says. "I'll check with the hospital and search the woods and cemetery."

"Thanks."

Two hours later Joe wakes up.

"You were right," Joe mutters.

My mental alarm starts ringing.

"Right?" I ask.

"New partner," Joe half mumbles, half whispers.

_I've got a big problem. Joe's biggest weakness is he doesn't believe in himself._

"No," I say and grab his hand. "I was upset over Callie. We're equals. You, me and dad."

"Mom…Callie alive," Joe mumbles. "Iola dead."

_Joe is asleep before I find my voice. How did I miss this? How do I fix this?_


	5. Unexpected turn of Events

**Sorry I haven't updated in awhile, I've been kinda busy, but plwase review! My mom loves all the reviews her stories get and since she doesn't really know how to use a comouter ai'm the one posting. Anyhow, enjoy! ;)**

_How can I convince Joe Iola's death wasn't his fault? _

One hour later, Joe wakes.

"Hey," I say and place a protective hand on his shoulder.

"Frank?" Joe whispers.

"I'm here. We need to talk," I say. "Iola's death wasn't your fault. If Callie or Mom had died, would it mean me or Dad did a bad job?"

"No," Joe whispers.

I smile. _Didn't expect it to be this easy. _

"Didn't flirt…in front of them," Joe whispers.

I wince and remember how Joe flirted with another girl in front of Iola. Iola ran to dad's car. The car exploded before Joe reached her.

"We all make mistakes," I say. "You've got to let this go."

_But the truth hits me hard. Joe can't let this go, any more than I can let go of the guilt I feel for Joe's eyes. _

"Replay that day," Joe whispers with a ragged breath. "What if I ran faster? Or…"

"Joe," I say and put my hand gently on his shoulder.

"Stupid," Joe whispers. "Rumor going around I was gay. Decided to prove them wrong by flirting with every girl I met."

"How come you never told me?" I ask.

"Wanted to fix my own mess," Joe mumbles.

"Who started the rumor?" I ask.

"Don't know," Joe says and yawns. "If I caught Iola … could have saved her."

"Joe, stop," I say.

"If I'd run faster and pulled her away from the car quicker," Joe says and his voice breaks.

"If I'd realized my car had a bomb attached, you wouldn't be in the hospital," I say.

"Not your fault," Joe says.

"Then it's not your fault either," I say. "Okay?"

"Iola's dead," Joe says. "You saved me."

"I almost got you killed. When Dad pulled up and my car exploded…" I stop and swallow hard.

"Frank?" Joe whispers and reaches out his hand.

I grab it.

"Thought you were dead," I whisper.

"Right here," Joe says and squeezes my hand.

Joe is asleep before I find my voice.

_I want to get drunk. To escape. But I can't. Joe can't escape his darkness, so I won't escape mine._

Two hours later Dad walks in. Joe is still asleep.

"Any luck finding the guy who did this?" I ask.

"Not yet. Sam and I are working the case," Dad says. "Con is guarding the hospital room."

"Joe's chain?" I ask.

"No luck," Dad says. "Hospital says Joe wasn't wearing it when he was admitted. Sam and Edward are searching the woods where Joe was found."

"Good," I say. "I'll tell Joe if he asks."

"Not your fault, Frank," Dad says.

_His words bounce off me like bullets off a bulletproof vest. Is this how Joe feels when I tell him Iola's death isn't his fault? _

_After Dad leaves, I sit in the dark hospital room. If Joe is blind, this is what I've sentenced him too. Joe hates the dark…always has. Since Joe was little, I'd wake up in the morning and find him in my bed. I'd pretend to be asleep until Joe woke up and snuck back to his room. _

The next morning, Joe is not happy.

"You try peeing in a cup when you can't see," Joe says, as I guide him back to bed. "It's not pretty."

"Thanks for the visual," I say.

"How are you feeling Joe?" Dad asks.

"When can I go home?" Joe asks.

"Today," Dad says.

"Cool," Joe says.

"He's not ready to go home," I say.

A nurse distracts Joe by taking his blood pressure.

"Joe's safer if he's not here," Dad says. "Too many ways to get into the hospital."

_Right. I knew that. But Joe's still a mess. _

"Wanna sleep in my own bed," Joe says.

Four hours later, I'm still trying to figure out how to break the news to Joe.

"You're driving my Mustang?" Joe says as I push his wheelchair outside the hospital.

"How did you know?" I ask and look at the bandages that cover Joe's eyes.

"Smell the car wax," Joe says and strokes the car's black hood. "Can't wait to get home."

"About that," I say. "We're going to my condo."

"No way! I've slept in a hospital bed for days! Nurses woke me up every 30 minutes to ask me if I was asleep! I want to sleep in my own bed!"

"My place has a security alarm," I say. "Yours doesn't. Deal with it."

Joe mumbles in his seat. I ignore him.

"Gotta go home and get my stuff," Joe says triumphantly.

"Sam already grabbed your clothes," I say. "Your stuff is in the backseat."

"You're kidnapping me?" Joe says.

"No, I'm taking you to my condo to recuperate," I say.

Joe gives me the silent treatment as I pull into Fox Haven, the gated community I call home.

_I was lucky to get a condo here. Amenites include a gym, restaurant, swimming pool and sauna. Most of the people here are retired, but it's a great place. _

"Smells like old people," Joe says and wrinkles his nose.

"Hello Mr. Hardy," the security guard says. "Nice car."

I nod as I drive through.

Joe mumbles something.

I grit my teeth, grab Joe's bag of clothes, and guide him to my front door.

"Franklin, you have a guest?" Mr. Green asks. "I don't remember you filing out a visitor request form."

_Green is the president of the Home Owners Association and a stickler for following the rules. _

"Feeling's mutual," Joe mumbles.

"Just while he recovers," I say, as I unlock my door and push Joe inside.

"Frank, you know the rules," Mr. Green says. "No guests unless approved by the association."

"How old is Mr. Green?" Joe asks. "He's like 120 years old, right? What is he? The undead?"

"He's still standing here," I say.

"Don't care," Joe says.

_It's going to be a long night._


	6. The Cross

**Here's the next chapter. Whether you like it or hate it, please review! My mom's been off the writing scene for awhile and reviews make her feel like she' a writer once again. Thanks for all the support so far, guys- you've helped my mom through rough times when she lacked self confidence.**Chapter 6

"Time for your bath," I say.

"No way," Joe says. "Your shower has all those grab bars for old people."

"Don't care," I say and turn on the water in the tub.

"Smells like old people," Joe mumbles.

"You smell like old people," I say. "You need help getting undressed?"

"Dude, you wouldn't," Joe says.

"Try me," I say.

I shut the door and leave.

Twenty minutes later, Joe emerges. He smells better. "What do you want for supper?" I ask.

"Pizza," Joe says.

"Chicken noodle soup?" I ask.

"No pizza, no medicine," Joe says.

"Doctor didn't clear it," I say.

"Don't care," Joe says.

When Joe gets like this, there's no reasoning with him. Everything else is out of Joe's control. Pizza I can do.

I dial Prito's pizzeria.

"Tony, it's Frank. I need a large cheese pizza."

"Pepperoni," Joe says.

"With pepperoni," I say.

"Onions," Joe adds.

I hand Joe the phone.

"Hey, Prito. Gimme a large pie with everything except ham, pineapple, peppers and anchovies."

"Yeah, I'm good. I'm at Frank's so watch out for old people," Joe says and hangs up.

He feels his way along the wall into my bedroom.

"What's going on?" I ask.

"Need a pillow," Joe says and keeps a hand on the wall. He feels my headboard and grabs a pillow off my bed.

I cringe. Framed photos of Callie sit on my desk, nightstand and entertainment center.

Joe can't see them. Can you feel guilty and relieved at the same time?

Joe touches a figurine on my nightstand – a bride and groom figurine.

"Dude, you kept the statue Callie got you for your birthday?" Joe asks as he feels it with his fingers.

I grab it quickly.

"Thought you were going to pass out when you unwrapped it," Joe says.

"It was a surprise," I say and put it in my closet.

"Callie didn't realize how much you hate being pushed," Joe says.

"Thank you, Dr. Phil," I say and guide Joe to the living room couch.

"Any word on the chain?" Joe asks, as his hand feels his bare neck.

"Not yet," I say. "But I posted signs at the hospital. Took out an ad in The Bayport News. Even offered a reward."

I offered a $1,000 reward, but Joe doesn't need to know that.

"Sorry," Joe mumbles.

"For what?" I ask.

"Maybe Callie would still be here if we weren't a package deal," Joe says.

"I made my choice," I say.

"You didn't have a choice," Joe says. "You were caught between me and Callie."

"No, I was caught between the life Callie wanted me to live and reality," I say. "Detectives don't work regular hours. I've never wanted to be anything else."

"Frank, you've been miserable the past year," Joe says.

"I wasn't expecting Callie to break up with me," I say.

"Yeah, but I knew you were hurting," Joe says. "Just didn't know what to do."

"You put up with me," I say. "That was a lot."

"S'okay," Joe says.

Desperate to change the subject, I turn on ESPN. While Joe listens to sports news, I unpack the duffel bag of Joe's stuff that Sam packed.

I turn the bag upside down to make sure I didn't miss anything. A book falls onto my hardwood floor.

A Bible?

I pick it up. A picture of Joe and Iola bookmarks a passage underlined in red ink.

A real friend will help you against your enemies and protect you in the fight. Never forget such companions in battle. Sirach 37: 5&6

Under the passage Joe wrote one word: Frank.

A paper falls to the floor.

I know this is Joe's private stuff. Stuff he might have told me if I hadn't shut down. I've got no right to read it, but I can't stop myself.

I Love You regardless of how well you are performing. Sometimes you feel uneasy, wondering if you are doing enough to be worthy of My Love …Your performance and My Love are totally different issues…I love you with an everlasting Love…without limits or conditions...Bring your performance anxiety to Me, and receive in its place My unfailing Love. *

Joe's handwriting fills the rest of the page.

God, how can You love me after I let Iola die? When I make so many mistakes at work? Scared I'm losing my mind. Every morning my nerves are shot. I throw up before leaving for work. How can You love me when I don't even love myself?

I swallow hard and put the page back.

My doorbell rings.

"I'll get it," I say.

I open the door to find Tony and Mr. Green on my doorstep.

"Franklin, you do remember our Home Association rules specify no food deliveries?" Mr. Green says. "It makes our condos seem rather common."

Tony's face is a dangerous shade of red.

"Sorry," I say and pull Tony into my condo. "I forgot. My mind has been on other things."

"I'm still writing you up," Mr. Green says.

I shut the door.

"Friendly neighbors," Tony says. "Joe, how ya doing?"

"Better, if that smell is a Prito special," Joe says.

"Here you go," Tony says.

"Hold it," I say. "Medicine first."

Joe swallows three pills.

"Sorry about the old guy," Joe says, before I can apologize.

"S'okay," Tony says. "I feel bad for them. They don't stand a chance against Joe. Pizza is on the house. Got to make some more deliveries. Rest up, Joe."

"I'll walk you to the door," I say.

"How you holding up?" Tony asks when we're outside.

"Hanging in," I say.

"Saw Joe the day you guys left for Europe," Tony says.

"You guys had lunch?" I ask.

"No. I drove by the cemetery," Tony says as his pager goes off. "Saw Joe at Iola's grave. Call me if you need anything, OK?"

I watch Tony drive away.

Joe was at Iola's grave before we left for Europe. That's why he didn't pack. Iola was the "female friend" he had to visit. I am the world's worst brother.

When I walk in my condo, three pieces of pizza have disappeared. Joe's eyes are half closed, but he's fighting to stay awake.

"Wanna sleep in my bed," Joe mumbles.

"Not happening," I say. "Any deep, dark secrets I need to know? You still wet the bed?"

"Was three years old," Joe mumbles.

"Just checking," I say.

"Hate these pills," Joe mumbles. "No idea what I'm saying."

"So no different from usual," I say.

He doesn't complain when I ruffle his hair, so I know Joe is out of it. Joe isdefinitely not operating any heavy machinery on these pills.

"All I had left of Iola," Joe mumbles as his hand touches his empty neck.

"We'll find the chain," I say.

Tomorrow I'll call the paper and make the reward $5,000.

"It kinda saved my life," Joe mumbles.

"Kind of?" I ask.

"Almost did something stupid after Iola died," Joe mumbles.

Joe's under the influence of drugs, but I need to know. After Iola died, I worried I'd lose Joe. But Joe would never talk about her death. I wasn't losing this chance.

"What happened?" I ask, desperate to find out before the drug knocks Joe out.

"M' birthday," Joe mutters.

I swallow hard. Joe disappeared on his birthday after Iola died. I had the worst feeling. I couldn't find him. I called everybody, even Biker. Spent the night driving the streets. "Dead Man's Cliff," Joe mutters.

"Really?" I ask and struggle to keep my voice calm.

Every year somebody jumped from Dead Man's Cliff – a 150 foot drop over jagged rocks. I'd almost lost my brother.

"Gonna jump," Joe says. "Felt Iola's cross around my neck."

Thank God for Iola. She'd saved him even after she died.

"Funny," Joe mumbles. "Didn't remember putting chain on."

Ok, first thing tomorrow I call the newspaper. Somebody would definitely turn in the chain for $10,000, right?

"Chain keeps me out of trouble," Joe mumbles.

"I'll find it," I say and pray I'm not lying.

"Don't want you to know," Joe mutters.

"Know what?" I ask and rub Joe's shoulders.

"Nightmares," Joe mumbles.

Surprised it's this easy.

"Everyone has nightmares," I say. "I had one at the hospital last night of my car blowing up."

"Deductible that high?" Joe mutters.

"No, I thought my annoying little brother was in my car," I say. "They're hard to replace."

"You really have nightmares?" Joe whispers.

"Yes. Nightmares are an occupational hazard for us," I say. "Now go to sleep. The last thing I need is you sleep deprived and cranky tomorrow."

•

From Jesus Calling, by Sarah Young, April 19th devotional


	7. Nightmares

**Thanks for all the reviews, and please keep em coming! :)**

Chapter 7

My cell rings.

"Frank?" Dad asks. "How are you guys?"

"Joe's asleep," I say.

Not sure how I am. Existing. Surviving.

"Any word on the contract?" I ask to fill the silence.

"Our source says you're still in danger. Keep a close eye out."

"Will do. Night, Dad."

"Frank, it wasn't your fault," Dad says. "I'm the one who assigned you and Joe the case."

I hang up. Too tired to talk.

Joe moans in his sleep.

"Iola," Joe mutters.

"Easy," I say and rub Joe's arm.

Last thing I need is Joe ripping out the stitches in his chest.

"I'll save you!" Joe shouts.

I can't wake Joe. He hyperventilates and moves from side to side.

Joe doesn't have nightmares. He has night terrors – nightmares on steroids.

Gently I sit Joe up and wrap my arms around him.

"It's ok," I say. "Just a dream."

Not true. Iola's dead. But I've got to wake Joe.

"No! I can help her!" Joe shouts. "Let me go!"  
I flashback to fighting Dad when I thought Joe was inside my car when it exploded.

Joe struggles in my arms to break free.

I hold him tighter.

One last thing to try. Joe will do anything for me.

"Joe, I need you. Now."

"Frank?" Joe half whispers, half sobs.

"Right here," I say and hold him close.

Joe trembles in my arms.

"Need air," Joe mumbles. "Usually go for a run after…"

Usually? How long has this been happening? No wonder he makes mistakes at the office. I'm amazed Joe can still function.

I put my jacket over Joe's shoulders. We go into my backyard.

"Better?" I ask.

"Yeah," Joe says. "You need a different partner. Like Edward. He's organized. Dad likes him. You like him."

"No," I say.

"Can't watch your back if I'm blind. And if anything happened to you on my watch…" Joe's voice trails off.

"Joe," I whisper. "I'm not going to…"

"You believe some part of Iola still exists?" Joe whispers. "Like maybe she's in heaven and happy?"

"She could be," I say.

"Been reading the Bible," Joe says. "Gotta believe I didn't totally destroy Iola," Joe says.

I'm on shaky ground here. I'm not religious. I've prayed more in the last week than I have my whole life.

"Know you don't believe," Joe says. "In high school, you said religion was a crutch – better than drugs or alcohol – but still a crutch."

Why does Joe remember this? And why does he put such stock in the things I say?

"Anything that helps you hurt less I support," I say.

"Good, cuz I read this in the bible," Joe whispers. "Says if you travel with someone reckless, you'll die. That's me, Frank. I'm impulsive. I won't take you down with me."

I'm in shock. All of this is coming from left field. Why didn't I see any of this coming?

"Joe, I've spent the last year depressed. Instead of talking about it or getting help, I took it out on you. You don't think that's reckless?"

"Not the same," Joe says.

"Joe…" I say.

"Tried to be more like Edward," Joe mutters. "On time. Organized. But I can't."

I want to tell Joe I'm amazed he's functioning with his night terrors. But I'm afraid I'll make him feel worse. So I go with honesty.

"I hate Edward," I say.

"Did you hear that?" Joe asks.

"No."

Joe grabs my arm.

"Somebody's out here," Joe whispers. "And they don't smell old.

"What's old smell like?" I ask.

"Ben Gay, Preparation H and prunes," Joe says.

A bullet hits a tree a foot away.

I roll us into some bushes.


End file.
